Pokémon Ria
by Evil Overlord Darius Pent
Summary: The legendary Pokémon trainer code-named "Red" liberated Silph Company's headquarters from the clutches of an infamous criminal organization. But despite bringing Team Rocket to its knees, Red never fully comprehended the plans of its leader, Giovanni. Years later, vigilante Darius Pent hunts down the Silph staff members he holds responsible... [Full summary inside.]
1. Prologue: Crimson Catalyst

**Pokémon Ria Synopsis**

The legendary Pokémon trainer code-named "Red" liberated Silph Company's headquarters from the clutches of an infamous criminal organization. But despite bringing Team Rocket to its knees, Red never fully comprehended the plans of its leader, Giovanni.

Years later, vigilante Darius Pent hunts down the Silph staff members he holds responsible for handing Giovanni the keys to the Master Ball prototype.

Upon discovering crucial secrets about the Silph incident, Professor Maxwell Willow—Saul "Go" Willow's elder brother—offers Darius a deal: the truth in exchange for guiding a group of unruly rookie trainers. Darius agrees to lead them through the vibrant, but volatile Ria region, where a mysterious figure gathers the husks of Team Rocket and other failed groups into a crime syndicate powerful enough to threaten trainers and Pokémon everywhere.

With society and his quest for justice at stake, Darius battles to the core of the conspiracy to obtain what he craves most—vengeance.

* * *

This story is inspired by the Pokémon games & Pokémon Special manga more than the 4Kids! anime. As a way to draw upon that inspiration, I will sometimes include music suggestions during my chapters. I will post these at the front-end, before the narrative, so as to avoid tearing readers out of the story. The music is entirely optional, and can be found on YouTube with the titles I provide. Enjoy. - EODP

[Recommended music during battle: Pokémon Team Rocket Boss Giovanni Theme Remix / Remastered]

* * *

 **Pokémon Ria Prologue: Crimson Catalyst**

"My patience wears thin, Mister President."

Giovanni fixated his notorious wolfish gaze across the decorative mahogany table that nearly filled the conference room. He could just see the President behind the table's centerpiece, a massive spherical statue bearing the Silph Company insignia. Even at this range, Giovanni could distinguish the desperation evident in the man's aging features: a ring of sagely white hair encompassed his head like a monk's roundlet, in stark contrast to his drooping mustache and cheeks that sagged, as if with the weight of unanswered prayers.

Giovanni made a point to maintain his rigid and purposefully intimidating posture as he looked the man over. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and his chest protruded with pride, his stature befitting the ruler of the greatest underground organization in the region.

"Your greatest achievement will belong to me with or without your cooperation," the Team Rocket boss continued, now beginning to pace. "The march of progress must press on… though it would be a shame for such a dedicated company man to be trampled by not stepping in time with it."

The old man remained petrified upon his red leather sofa. He furrowed his eyebrows together as sweat dripped down his thick neck.

"Progress? You mean sheer exploitation!" the Silph Company President said at last, voice hoarse. "Trying to force me to sign over our rights to the prototype? I won't allow it!" He slammed a fist down with a thud upon the sofa armrest. His voice had faltered with the last statement, however, betraying his attempt at resistance.

Giovanni allowed his lips to curl into a bemused grin.

"Your resilience is admirable, Mister President, but I consider time a precious resource I am unwilling to squander. I'm afraid that further defiance would prove to be most unwise on your part."

The old man shuffled in his seat and looked away in silence.

Giovanni followed his eyes to the wall-mounted screen displaying a live feed from the Silph Company's security cameras. The screen was split into 32 panels displaying images for each floor, 1F to 11F. Most of the images displayed a Team Rocket grunt standing guard, but the one that had captured the President's gaze displayed another figure—a youth far too familiar to the ruler of the Rockets. Dressed in red and possessing serene, brown eyes and an enthusiastic face, the young man had exposed Team Rocket's Celadon Game Corner hideout, where he thrashed Giovanni's followers and even battled Giovanni himself. The sight of the troublesome Pokémon trainer immediately soured Giovanni's mood.

He's still placing his trust in the boy, Giovanni thought, looking back to the Silph President. He cleared his throat.

"Even if he finds his way to you, that boy cannot save you. I know him. He's no threat to me."

"So you claim, Giovanni. Yet when he arrived on this floor by elevator, you did not unlock the door and let him in," the President stated as he turned back towards the Rocket boss, fear absent in his voice. "Instead, you left him to wander floor by floor, testing warp portals one at a time to find his way here."

"He will have to be smart enough to earn the right to face me," Giovanni said, immediately realizing he had replied more forcefully than intended. There was no need to sound tense over a Pokémon trainer who could not threaten him, let alone challenge all of Team Rocket alone. But even as Giovanni dismissed him, the trainer appeared on a panel marked "11F," in which a single black-garbed grunt stood between him and a door—the door to their conference room.

"Stop right there! Don't you move!"

Though the cameras were not equipped for audio transmission, Giovanni heard his lackey's muffled voice through the door. He watched as the grunt hurled a red-and-white ball that summoned a tan, rough-skinned Sandshrew in a blast of light. He saw the trainer throw his own sphere that landed off-screen, then gesture with his arms. The grunt recoiled as a wave of water suddenly rushed in and enveloped both him and the Sandshrew. The ground-digging Pokémon slammed into its master from the force of the water, and both struck the wall and collapsed.

Giovanni felt his eyes narrow as the trainer opened the ball again, creating a flash of light, and then approach the door.

After a brief beep, followed by a click, the door split apart and retracted into the walls.

Giovanni pivoted on his leather business shoes' heels and set his jaw.

The trainer's red hat nearly covered his eyes, which peered back at Giovanni without fear—either sheer bravado or ignorance. Five pins gleamed from the lapel of the youth's jacket.

The lustrous gray octagon of the Boulder Badge.

The simplistic cerulean water drop, the Cascade Badge.

The blinding sun of the Thunder Badge.

The resplendent Rainbow Badge.

And the split heart known as the Soul Badge.

Giovanni noted that the last two were new additions since last they met. He also noticed there was no Marsh Badge. Giovanni remembered that he had instructed some of his followers to blockade the Saffron City gym to prevent their interference at Silph Co., and realization set in: He had succeeded in blocking off the path to psychic master, Sabrina, but simultaneously had handed the youth in front of him a reason to interfere directly.

All of these thoughts occurred in mere seconds as Giovanni sized-up the young man.

"Ah, so we meet again." Giovanni stepped forward, closing the distance between them in seconds.

"The President and I are discussing a vital business proposition. Keep your nose out of grown-up matters…"

He fingered a small, metallic sphere clipped to the side of his belt and pressed a small button on it with his thumb, causing the sphere to enlarge until it encompassed his entire hand. The Rocket boss then snapped the now full-sized ball forward with a wrist motion.

"…Or experience a world of pain!"

A burst of light exploded from where the ball landed. When the light abated, a violet quadruped stood in its place. The creature—not quite a meter in height, though its pointed ears and back fin stood rigid—emitted a sharp, grating cry that filled the meeting room. Upon noticing the boy standing in front of it, the Nidorino lowered its head and scraped the nails of its foreleg against the tile floor. It oozed malefic liquid from the tip of its protruding horn, splattering the floor with drops every few seconds.

Giovanni could not help but grin as the trainer refused to flee, instead gripping his cap with one gloved hand while reaching for a Pokéball with the other.

"You don't intimidate me, and I'm not backing down! Go, Lapras!" The trainer in red shouted as he threw his ball.

The capsule opened, and from nothingness an ichthyic monster materialized. The Pokémon crooned, flapping its azure-white fins in the air. When it saw the prickly, poison-horned imp, however, its eyes narrowed.

It amused Giovanni that the boy chose to defy him with one of Silph's lab rats. Clearly acquired from a Silph employee just minutes ago, the Lapras' sturdy body would not suffice to compensate for its lack of training. Perhaps the young trainer sought to teach it quickly by immediately sending it into battle.

A decision the boy will regret, he thought.

"Nidorino, destroy it. Head Smash," Giovanni ordered, pocketing his hands.

He heard the President emit a sharp gasp as his Pokémon rushed forward and leaped at the Lapras head-first.

As Nidorino closed the gap, the youth yelled an order, and the creature immediately opened wide its mouth, gushing forth a ring of water that enveloped Giovanni's Pokémon and nearly drowned out its pained cries. Yet despite wincing and shuddering, Nidorino continued its course. It struck its head against the gray shell on the Lapras's back, filling the room with a cracking sound.

While Lapras writhed in agony, its shell fissured along multiple faults, Nidorino pivoted on its short hind legs. Panting slow, suffering breaths—Giovanni knew it had damaged itself from the blow—the creature rushed forward again in search of the kill.

"Lapras, Ice Shard!"

Heeding its young master's unfaltering voice, Lapras reared back its head momentarily before lurching forward. It ejected a prism of ice from its mouth that shot through the air before Giovanni could blink.

The frozen dagger plunged into Nidorino's chest, erupting a stream of blood through the air.

As his Nidorino keeled onto its side, Giovanni aimed his Pokéball at his companion. He watched as its limp form dematerialized into a red glow, which then collapsed back into the humming sphere.

The Rocket boss smirked with bemusement as the young trainer pumped his fist in the air; the fool would learn his victory was but an illusion when the tables turned. Though Giovanni had not brought a full team of six Pokémon with him, the three that remained on his belt would suffice for crushing his enemy.

In a deft ambidextrous movement, Giovanni shrunk Nidorino's ball with a press of its button while drawing and enlarging another.

"Smash it to powder, Rhyhorn."

A slate-colored, boulder-skinned rhinoceros emerged from the ball he had thrown. It shook the room as it stamped down, snorting contemptuously at its wounded foe.

Then it charged.

The President exclaimed in alarm, quickly ducking underneath the conference table as the room shook.

The Lapras spurted another aquatic ring as its trainer ordered, but Rhyhorn pushed through the eroding of its armored side. A moment later, the Lapras collapsed with a shriek.

Crimson life gushed forth from the gouge in the creature's back, pooling around the debris that had once been the Lapras' shell.

Perfect execution, Giovanni thought, relishing the sight of the carnage. Although he knew the Lapras would probably make a full recovery after some special attention at a Pokémon Center, Rhyhorn's blow had clearly impacted not only the Lapras, but the young trainer's mind.

"When I promised you a world of pain, I meant it quite literally," Giovanni said to the trainer, who looked in horror upon the bloody shell fragments.

"Get over yourself," the trainer quipped, eyes still flashing with defiance. "I beat you in Celadon, and I'll do it again now."

Giovanni laughed. "I was merely testing you then, boy. This time, I'll crush your arrogance to dust!"

"Don't be too sure." The trainer stared Giovanni down as he aimed his Pokéball at his Lapras. After the Pokémon retracted—its shattered shell vanishing with it—he pulled another ball from its clip with a shout of, "Jolteon, Agility!"

Giovanni raised an eyebrow as the sphere summoned a needle-furred Jolteon, which barked its compliance and left a breeze in its wake as it blitzed towards him. The Rocket boss considered crushing it utterly with an earthquake, but did not wish to risk collapsing the building with himself and the prized Master Ball in it. Instead, he allowed Rhyhorn to attempt skewering the Jolteon with its horn, but the Jolteon leaped over it and then kicked off of the wall to its weakened side.

"Double Kick!" the boy yelled, and his Pokémon reared back.

"Endure," Giovanni responded. He saw his Rhyhorn's body go rigid as Jolteon's hind legs struck it in the same spot that it had been soaked, the armor plate now cracked and emitting crunching sounds.

Yet Rhyhorn held firm.

Giovanni smirked.

"Reversal."

As soon as Rhyhorn bellowed a roar, Jolteon disappeared in a flash of red light, and a new Pokémon materialized as the boy shouted his commands of, "Return, Jolteon. Get 'im, Gengar! Shadow Sneak!"

Giovanni reflexively widened his eyes. He had watched nearly every battle the trainer had with the Team Rocket grunts on the monitors, and not once had the trainer used Gengar in battle.

He must have switched Pokémon before he reached me, Giovanni thought, struck by the irony that his opponent had obtained a Gastly while battling the Rockets in Lavender Town's Pokémon Tower.

Before he could lift Rhyhorn's Pokéball to retrieve it, the rock rhino whirled around at where the Jolteon stood, but in its place emerged a purple shade Pokémon with harrowing crimson eyes that leered at Rhyhorn. Its boulder-like body passed through the immaterial Pokémon and struck the wall instead, crumbling it and peppering the office with plaster rubble.

Gengar's infamous toothy grin spread wide across its shroud-like face.

Rhyhorn quivered, then fell upon its belly. As Giovanni's pet groaned in agony, a shadowy energy slithered back across the floor to ghost's transparent feet.

Giovanni felt a heat ignite in his chest. As he retreated Rhyhorn in a flash of light, Giovanni hurled his next Pokémon's capsule. He would teach this boy that he should not—no, COULD not be crossed.

The brown bipedal sciurine Pokémon that emerged dwarfed him by half a meter. Named after the world conqueror of centuries past, Giovanni's Kangaskhan growled at the spirit and flexed its claws.

"Put it to sleep, Gengar!"

"'Khan, Fake Out and Crunch."

Gengar's eyes emitted an eerie glow as the ghost attempted to render Kangaskhan defenseless, but the massive kangaroo reached Gengar in a single bound.

Kangaskhan swatted it with both forearms, knocking the wincing ghost backwards with its rare ability to strike immaterial beings with physical assaults. Giovanni's prized safari catch then rushed in to finish its enemy, but once again the trainer in red retreated his Pokémon before it could fall, simultaneously drawing another sphere and pointing it towards the office battlefield.

"Pidgeot, Steel Wing!"

A majestic, long-feathered avian emerged with a shrill chirp just before the Kangaskhan clamped down on its leg with its jaw, to which it retaliated with cutting a deep gash around its assailant's eye with its wing. At their trainers' behest, the two Pokémon set to tearing one another apart, inflicting fresh wounds with talon and claw, beak and jaw, wing and fist. The blows came in brutal flurries that left both combatants bloodied and panting for each breath. After Pidgeot scraped its talons through the meat of Kangaskhan's shoulder, it flapped its wings to retreat, but too slowly.

Kangaskhan struck Pidgeot's wing with a chilling blow that froze and then shattered it into icy chunks in rapid succession—not even bolstering its defenses with a metallic coating had protected it. The bird dropped to the floor with its eyes closed, jagged bone jutting out from the remains of its wing—to Giovanni's supreme satisfaction.

"Alakazam, your turn!" The Pidgeot vanished, and in its place a slender yellow-and-brown humanoid figure appeared, flowing mustache twitching.

Giovanni already had a plan in mind to shock the young trainer once more with another sudden knockout. When his Pokémon looked back to him for instruction, still breathing hard, the Rocket boss merely nodded. He had trained Kangaskhan for situations like this, and the wordless instruction had been clear: strike the foe from its blind side to take advantage of its frail defenses.

By the time the young trainer called out his Pokémon's name, Kangaskhan swept in towards the Alakazam's side, fist cocked to sucker-punch it out cold.

"—Confuse Ray!"

"No! Crunch, Kangaskhan!" Giovanni shouted, feeling his cool demeanor abandon him as he clenched his hands into fists.

A flash of light enveloped both Pokémon, and Giovanni's began to stumble about in confusion. It swung a heavy blow towards Alakazam, but missed by a wide margin, tripped on its own feet, and crashed to the floor. Suddenly, Kangaskhan lifted into the air by the psychic's mental influence; it hurtled into the mahogany desk, snapping the desk's corner leg and sending splinters everywhere, accompanied by a frantic yelp from the President. After the rumble of the collision subsided, Kangaskhan laid motionlessly.

Giovanni felt his brows furrow, his eyes glaring at the boy in bloodshot fury. How could it be possible for this child—no, this _insect_ —to defy the ruler of the Rockets? He looked to his fallen Kangaskhan and felt shame eat at him for allowing this boy to make such a fool of him.

Yet pride returned to Giovanni as he remembered who he was: savvy businessman, venerated Viridian City Gym Leader, and mastermind of the Team Rocket empire. No matter how the trainer in red defied him, in the end it would equivocate to a gnat railing against the heavens. He would solve this insurgency with his ace-in-the-hole, an ample solution for dealing with the psychic that had crumpled his Pokémon like a ragdoll.

After returning his Kangaskhan, Giovanni gripped his last Pokéball between his thumb and strong fingers, feeling the soft fur he had glued to it that had once belonged to an Umbreon—its residual Dark Type energy made the ball impervious to mental powers.

"Insolent child. I have had enough of your posturing." Giovanni hurled the ball right at the Alakazam and shouted, "Prepare yourself! Nidoqueen, Crunch!"

The boy reacted immediately, yelling, "Blast the ball away, Alakazam!"

The Alakazam focused its gaze on the fur-covered Pokéball, lashing it with barely-perceivable psychic waves that fluctuated wildly in the air. But to both its and its trainer's shock, the sphere did not yield to the psychic influence.

From the ball emerged a paler, taller, bipedal female iteration of the first Pokémon Giovanni had sent into battle. Nidoqueen clamped her jaws upon her foe's scrawny torso, shadowy wisps emitting from her teeth. As her victim seized up from the pain, Nidoqueen lifted Alakazam towards the ceiling…

The Alakazam's body crashed upon Nidoqueen's thick knee, back sounding like a board being snapped in half, its eyes blanching as it crumpled to the floor motionlessly. Its mouth gurgled with froth.

When the Alakazam vanished in a ray of light, Giovanni noticed that his opponent did not shake with fear at what he had just witnessed; instead, his hands shook with rage, and his face darkened under the bill of his cap as he tugged it further down.

Time to salt the wound.

"What'll it be, boy? That Jolteon is worthless to you against Nidoqueen, and Gengar won't last long. You've made a critical error in your roster."

Giovanni felt his usual calm, in-control manner return to him. He knew the only answer to his question was the trainer's precious starter Pokémon, and as mighty as the draconic-shaped fire lizard Charizard was, it would drop to a single Rock Slide from Nidoqueen. Giovanni knew that although the youth had caused him to struggle far more than he could have ever predicted, he was out of moves, out of options.

Checkmate, he thought with a grin.

Giovanni watched in silence as the boy unclipped what was surely Charizard's ball from his belt, slowly looking up from the shattered tile chunks that littered the office. Their gazes met in a clash of scorn and fury.

Then the silence broke with a question.

"What are you hoping to accomplish by taking over Silph and striking fear into everyone? What's in it for a criminal like you? More money? Don't you have enough of that already?"

Giovanni spread his hands with a chuckle. "Do my actions astound you? It's simple. Silph has developed a tool that will make Team Rocket's ideal reality. With the Master Ball, we can catch any Pokémon. They will rightfully belong to us—all of them. And then Team Rocket will usher in a new age with the profit and the power that comes with it."

The trainer said nothing at first, only shaking his head.

"What's the matter, boy? You don't approve?"

"That settles it, then." The trainer in red clenched a fist as he took a step forward. "You're not just my enemy, or my Pokémon's enemy. You're the enemy of all Pokémon everywhere. And I'm stopping you!"

Giovanni furrowed his brow. "Is that a fact?"

The boy nodded, his eyes lit like fire as he held his Pokéball aloft.

"It ends here! Charizard, go!"

The room echoed with an ear-splitting roar as blasts of flame erupted from Charizard's maw. The room—floor, walls, even ceiling—shook as Charizard stamped its feet. Its claws gleamed in the fluorescent lighting as smoke billowed from its flame-tipped tail.

Giovanni slipped his hands back into his pockets, his victory assured. "Bury it with Rock Slide, Nidoqueen."

"Interrupt it with Seismic Toss!"

Giovanni scoffed as Charizard took flight and swooped towards Nidoqueen. With its speed, Charizard could pre-empt his Pokémon's attack, but there was no room for such a maneuver. Charizard would slam into the ceiling, which would collapse and crush it, and even while holding Nidoqueen, it would be vulnerable.

The time to end the charade had come.

"Nidoqueen, Poison Fang."

Nidoqueen bared its teeth as Charizard approached.

Just before they collided, Charizard's trainer shouted another instruction:

"Spin laterally to avoid the ceiling!"

Charizard slipped its slender limbs under Nidoqueen's arms, and with a powerful beating of its wings, the fire lizard lifted her off her feet. It roared with pain as Nidoqueen's fangs sunk into its neck, but managed to maintain its flight trajectory. Charizard spun Nidoqueen around the room just below the ceiling, wings continuing to beat despite the toxins flowing through its bloodstream.

Giovanni looked on, incredulous.

It was _impossible_.

Yet he could not deny what he saw with his own eyes.

Although he believed in his Nidoqueen's strength—he had trained her extensively—he felt his sense of control once again begin to fray. If something were to happen and Nidoqueen did not take Charizard down…

Best to deploy the contingency plan, just in case. Giovanni slipped his finger to his wristwatch and pressed in the bezel, signaling to his lackeys that they had overstayed their welcome at Silph.

Charizard continued to whip in such a tight, fast circle that each beat of its wings whipped a current of air into Giovanni's eyes.

"Charizard, release!" Charizard's trainer shouted as the beast neared its speed apex.

Charizard released Nidoqueen, who failed to cling to it with her jaw.

Giovanni watched his juggernaut tumble through the air, approaching the outer wall. He aimed her Pokéball and pressed the button—and the laser missed Nidoqueen's shoulder by inches. Giovanni cursed audibly, pressed the button again…

The glass window splintered into countless fragments as Nidoqueen crashed through, head clipping the ceiling as she passed by, the Pokéball laser too far behind to save her. Blood and glass and wails of pain filled the air as Giovanni shouted words he could not hear while tracking Nidoqueen plummet to the street below…

Floor eight…

Five…

Two…

All of Saffron City seemed to quake when the Pokémon struck the asphalt of the street. Despite its human-like weight, Nidoqueen's body—what remained of it—had created a crater in front of the Silph entrance. Its limbs were mangled in ghastly directions, and the crater flowed with crimson.

Giovanni turned from the sight to the trainer and his Charizard, which had just touched down, its breathing labored as the poison continued to tear it apart from within. The Team Rocket boss clenched his gloved hand.

My Nidoqueen, Giovanni thought. You _bastard_!

Not just Nidoqueen. My _plans_!

The boy looked shaken and guilt-laden as he looked down, away from the broken window.

"I'm sorry! Your Pokémon…"

Giovanni snorted. He would not permit himself to show weakness in front of his enemy.

"Blast it all, you ruined my plans for Silph!" Giovanni spat, causing the trainer to jump with surprise at the unexpected reply. "Team Rocket will never fall. Do you hear me, boy? Never."

"Don't you see, you've lost!" The trainer looked up and swiped his hand through the air. "You can't hold the President here against his will any longer!"

With the battle subsided, the President crawled out from the remains of the conference table, his face and suit drenched with sweat.

Giovanni said nothing, turning away. In the silence between them, he caught the high-pitched whine of an engine motor and the rapid chopping sound of helicopter blades. The air whistled as Giovanni stepped towards the window, and the sounds increased into near-roars as Giovanni's getaway vehicle came into sight, a rope hanging from its landing gear.

"What are you doing?" the youth asked. Giovanni did not turn to face him as he answered.

"Never forget that all Pokémon exist for Team Rocket."

"That's a lie. I won't allow it."

Giovanni smirked, simply replying, "I must go, but I shall return!"

He took a running leap out of the window, reaching towards the sky…

His hand found the rope, and he clung to it. He looked back at the trainer with a foreboding expression.

Charizard stomped forward to fly after him, but then winced and dropped to a knee. The poison had done its work, and the trainer returned it to its ball.

Then Giovanni looked down at the remains of his Nidoqueen. He couldn't quite tell if its torso still swelled from breathing because of the helicopter's swaying. Perhaps with immediate medical attention…

He aimed his Pokéball at Nidoqueen's mangled body, returning it into a simple red light.

Red like his enemy, who had crushed his Pokémon and his plans.

Red like the swathe of blood cleft through Team Rocket's ranks.

Dangling from the rope, Giovanni lifted into the skyline with the helicopter. His eyes remained locked on those of the trainer until he flew too far to distinguish him from the wreckage of the Silph Co. building.

Giovanni knew they would meet again, and battle for a third time. And it would be final.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Battling Team Rocket at the Silph Co. building has always been my favorite Pokémon moment, and I wanted to create my own rendition of that.

The prologue occurs several years before the events of the rest of the story about a character following in Red's footsteps, with a focus on the impact of Red's actions on other characters and events. I avoided calling Red by his name in the narrative because in this story it isn't his real name. In chapters to come, he is referred to as "Red" as a code-name, with his real identity kept a secret.

The battles were a blast to write, particularly the last part. I have always enjoyed writing battle scenes. I wanted to draw inspiration from the Pokémon Special manga and the games while providing a grittier experience. Hopefully this doesn't offend any sensibilities.

It was a challenge at first to get inside Giovanni's head, but I really enjoyed it once I finally did.

Giovanni's lines and Pokémon roster are straight from the games. Originally I wanted to have Nidoqueen use Megahorn on Alakazam, but she can't learn the move! So, I ended up writing her executing a Bane-style back-breaker move instead.

Originally didn't want to follow the anime/Origins trope of Charizard winning every fight with a Seismic Toss, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have it hurl something out of the top-story window.

12


	2. Chapter 01: Crimson Legacy

**Chapter 1: Crimson Legacy**

Darius Pent honed his eyes on the man browsing the Technical Machine section on the third floor of Celadon City's famed Pokémon department store. From his metal bench, he could watch the middle-aged scientist undetected with the aid of the newspaper that covered most of his face. Darius tracked him by the unsightly mop of greasy, black hair that bobbed each time the man pulled new merchandise from the shelf.

The scientist, Beau, looked up and glanced around the room through his thin-framed glasses. Darius lowered his eyes to the paper that shielded him from suspicion. While waiting for the man to move towards the checkout line, he reread the newspaper cover article.

 _Those damned fools_ , Darius thought. He pressed upon the newspaper, creasing it, nearly tearing it.

They were damned fools for thinking the past was behind them.

Darius retraced the large, bold headline with his eyes, then the tagline, focusing on the words to block out the pervasive noise of the Celadon department store: "FIFTH SILPH CO. LIBERATION ANNIVERSARY—Legacy of a Hero Celebrated, Remembered." While the article succeeded in explaining how the hero known to the world as "Red"—a code-name given him by the Indigo Plateau's Pokémon League—single-handedly brought Team Rocket to its knees, the journalists had written it in a celebratory tone that belied the threats and injustice he knew festered upon society like an oozing wound.

The inaction of the police and the League had allowed Giovanni and most of his followers to escape.

Darius would not tolerate such injustice. Those criminals would not elude him.

As his target would soon discover.

A sudden vibration jarred Darius. He reached for the Pokégear on his belt and slipped it in front of the newspaper. A message showing no sender ID displayed upon the screen.

 **[Have some information you will find interesting.]**

The tone gave away the identity of one of Darius's informants who purposefully spoke as indirectly as possible. A clumsy, but decent, way of covering their tracks should the authorities discover them.

He sneaked a glance at Beau, who loitered about in the aisle in front of him, and typed on his Pokégear while the man picked up more Technical Machines.

 **[This had better be important.]**

At last, Beau stepped towards the cash register, just within Darius' sight. The line of three people dwindled down to one.

 **[Wouldn't contact you if it wasn't. Drop whatever you're doing. This takes priority.]**

He typed another message as the woman in front of the scientist gathered her purchases into her bag.

 **[Busy. I'll get back to you.]**

Darius peered over his newspaper as the cashier swiped the man's credit card. The persistent Pokégear buzzed again.

 **[Your call, your regrets.]**

The Technical Machines paid for, Beau began to walk towards the stairwell. Darius stood, folded the newspaper, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. His fingers flew across the device's keyboard as he walked.

 **[I said later. Target on the move.]**

He reclipped his Pokégear to his belt, adjacent to the three Pokéballs on his right side, and shadowed the man as a specter might stalk a graveyard visitor, the sound of his steps swallowed up by the din of the department store.

His unwitting guide swung the door open hard enough to resound against the doorstop, then moved up the stairs at a jogging pace. Darius stopped the door with his palm and slipped through, guiding the door back to its frame so that it shut without emitting so much as a click from the door latch. He listened to the reverberation of the man's ascending steps, discerning which floor he was headed to by the number of steps and the pitch of their sound. They were on the third floor, and the number of steps far exceeded the number required to go up even two floors.

 _He's heading for the roof_ , Darius deduced. _Perfect. This may go easier than expected._

Darius stretched his legs as he climbed the stairs three-at-a-time in near silence, leaving an echo so diminutive that he could barely hear it. Upon reaching the rooftop door, he placed his hand around the long, steel handle and eased it clockwise, like a thief turning the dial of a safe. After turning it fully, Darius pressed his shoulder against the door, setting his foot in the corner of the doorway so as to catch it and keep it from making noise.

He saw a sliver of the afternoon sky through the crack of the open door, the white cottonball clouds rolling towards the southern sea. Darius slipped through the door and slid it closed, the clicking of metal sliding past metal drowned out by the pronounced hum of the vending machines along the northern railing. He saw that the roof was vacant of anyone else but Beau, a rare but fortuitous occurrence at the Department Store.

The scientist grumbled as the machine beeped, but failed to accept his credit card swipe, and then cursed loudly when his second swipe failed.

Darius crept up from behind.

"Crappy junker, work!" Beau growled, slamming his hand against the glass. "Why does the department store put these on the roof, anyways? Idiots." He moved to another vending machine.

Another swipe at a different machine produced a beeping acknowledgment. The mechanical arm inside the glass arose to the lemonades, extended, clamped around the plastic cylinder, retracted, and released. The lemonade plunged, then landed into the withdrawal slot with a pair of clunking sounds.

"Finally!" Beau bent over and grasped it through the slot.

In a heartbeat, Darius pulled two Pokéballs from his belt and opened them in flashes of white light. The trilling cries of his Pokémon filled the air as they emerged. A long-necked bird with a slender, pointed beak and a neon-colored, six-legged arachnid flanked Darius's target.

"What the—? What's happening?" Beau dropped his lemonade as he whipped around.

Darius returned the capsules to his belt as he uttered a command to his Fearow and Ariados.

"Alva, Shelob, delta formation."

The Ariados clacked its mandibles together as it raised its hind quarters, firing a stream of sticky webbing. The white, sinewy fluid stifled Beau's scream, covering his mouth and entrapping his torso in strands as thick as rope. Once the webbing surrounded the target like a cage, Alva the Fearow flapped its mighty stork wings and grasped the strings of webbing with its talons.

"Perfect execution," Darius commented. He allowed himself to smile as the man's eyes whitened and his muffled attempts to scream for help increased with his thrashing. Darius looked to Alva and said, "Fly."

Alva crooned, then ascended in a slow spiral.

"Well done, Shelob. Return." The trainer returned the Ariados to its ball and took out another from his belt simultaneously with a call of, "Dyna Blade, come."

Another avian materialized with a shriek, sweeping its black wings back in a majestic flourish. It stood at nearly four feet high in a proud pose, its crest displaying a noble white-on-black-on-white pattern. The only noticeable hue on its primarily shade-heavy plumage was the tuft of scarlet feathers that hung over its face like a human hairstyle. The Staraptor tilted its head as it turned to regard Darius, who was busy wrapping his hands in gauze.

"Fly, Dyna Blade," he stated, lifting his hands above his head. "Follow Alva."

Although the Staraptor demanded respect as a powerful bird of prey, it possessed under half its master's weight, and could not bear Darius upon its back. Instead, Dyna Blade emitted another shrill chirp as it took flight, and then alighted upon Darius's hands. It clutched them in its powerful talons and took off with a rapid flapping of its wings.

Darius felt the thrill of flight on the cool spring wind that whipped his long bangs and rippled his jacket behind him like a cape. The steady beating of the birds' wings carried Darius and the scientist above Celadon's towering skyscrapers and the Pokémon trainers thronging in the streets below, unwitting witnesses to his successful capture. The Pokémon Center and police station lay to the east, appearing as small as huts from his lofty position. Yet Darius knew better than to dally and allow the police to chase him in a helicopter, a near-impossible situation to escape from.

The trainer verbally directed Alva northward towards the isolated groves north of the city, with Dyna Blade in close pursuit. As they cleared the final rows of apartment buildings at the city's perimeter, Darius ordered his birds to descend until his feet began to skim the brushy tops of the trees beyond the city. When he spied a small clearing in the forest, the young man instructed his Pokémon to land there.

As Darius approached the ground, the air filled with a constant, vibrant buzzing sound. He signaled to Alva and Dyna Blade to glide the rest of the way, stifling the noise of their wings whipping the air. When at last his feet touched down upon the cushiony forest floor, Darius silently directed Alva to drop her cargo against a nearby pine tree. After the herring-like bird released its grasp on the stringy web cage, Darius returned his Pokémon to their respective spheres, which he then clipped to his belt.

He reached towards the holster on his belt and extracted a knife.

The military-grade monstrosity gleamed in the sunlight, pristine teeth poised like the fangs of a shark.

Darius traced the blade tip along the man's neck a centimeter away. As he moved it up the jawline, the prisoner twisted his head away as far as possible, but Darius maintained the blade's distance until the razor-edged weapon rested upon the man's cheek.

Beau's eyes widened behind the glare of his glass lenses as his entire body went rigid. As Darius stepped closer, his muffled shouts dwarfed the ever-present hum of the forest.

"Calm down and listen," the young man said, his voice even-tempered, yet commanding and low, just above a whisper. "I'm going to remove the webbing from your mouth so you can speak. Quietly. I'm sure you've noticed the buzzing sound."

As Darius paused, the vibration that was ever-present in the grove deepened, seemed to come from everywhere at once. As a Celadon native, he knew that the local Beedrill did not need to be as numerous as they were in the Viridian Forest to stir into a swarm of relentless, stabbing, piercing death.

He allowed for the Beedrill buzzing to fill the next few seconds. The man was drenched in sweat—rivers of it poured down his face, soaking his t-shirt. Beau swallowed, hard, and offered a feeble nod in reply.

Darius sliced through the stringy webbing, allowing his prisoner to inhale sharply through his mouth. He tucked the knife back into its scabbard, then slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.

"What is it you want from me?" the man gasped at last, his voice hoarse and dry.

Darius steeled his eyes, bearing his gaze upon the prisoner. "Answers. And I suggest you provide them before the Beedrill grow restless."

Beau blasted Darius's face with hot air. "What could I possibly know?"

"As the designer of Silph's prototype Master Ball, you know plenty," Darius shot back, his expression remaining unflappable.

The scientist shook his head. "I wasn't the only one on that project. Plenty of people lent a hand in its development. I don't even know most of the details. Silph kept information compartmentalized, need-to-know only."

"As project lead, you had the need-to-know, and now so do I."

"I'll lead the police right to you." The man's eyes narrowed, becoming hidden behind the flare of his glasses. "I can scream at any time. And if you think you can torture information out of me, their forensic scientists will trace my blood to your weapon."

Darius tilted his head back as he let out a sharp, staccato laugh. He patted the knife holster at his side. "This is a mere toothpick compared to Beedrill stingers. I'll leave it up to you to estimate how many of those will rush in to greet you long before anyone can come to your rescue."

He watched Beau's Adam's apple rise, then plunge. The scientist's eyes widened, and were now visible around the lens glare. With a new understanding established between them, Darius cut through the silence again.

"You may as well tell me what you know, considering Silph disposed of you to protect its image. Turns out it looks bad when the mind behind the Master Ball leaks information to Giovanni and turns coat."

"T…that's absurd!"

"Absurd, but true. A trusted eyewitness." Darius retrieved the newspaper from his pocket, opened it to a picture of Red from the anniversary article, and shoved it at the man's face. "There's also security footage confirming his statement. Or is that absurd, too?"

The man lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "I… I was scared… so, I pretended—"

Darius jabbed Beau's chest with his index finger. The newspaper fell to the forest floor.

"You pretended to be a loyal Silph employee. You pretended to be an upstanding citizen—"

"—No!" Beau interjected, his tone rising. "You don't understand—"

"—Pretended to create the Master Ball to better society, even as you sold the technical details on how to make it to the Rockets. Became one of them," Darius continued. "Took off with Giovanni's tainted money when Red uprooted their scheme and moved to Celadon to hide in plain sight."

"What's it matter to you?" the scientist retorted. "It isn't like I've done anything against you."

"The authorities let far too many Rocket scum like you slither away. I work to rectify that."

"What, wannabe hero wants to be like the legend? Tie up the cops' loose ends?"

"More like make a noose." Darius stared through the man's eyes and into his soul. He could practically feel the chill running through his prisoner's spine. "The only question is whose neck I tie it around—yours, or your former boss's."

"Who are you?!" the prisoner cried out, his voice rising.

The unending vibration in the air thickened, and Darius kept completely still. From the corner of his eye, a yellow-black striped hornet the length of his forearm flew past a tree twenty feet to his right. As if noticing Darius's reaction, Beau imitated a statue, neither moving nor breathing. The Beedrill looked like an insectoid fighter jet, its sleek body darting around trees in tight proximity. The conical stingers that protruded from the ends of its arms and abdomen appeared like warheads ready to rocket towards them at a moment's notice.

Darius felt his heart hammering his ribcage as the Beedrill flitted from tree to tree. He weighed his options as the killer insect seemed to float, drifting its way through the forest, sometimes drawing closer, sometimes away. The trainer knew that if it noticed them, it would attack within seconds. He could crush a single Beedrill with ease, but if the commotion drew dozens, even hundreds of the massive hornets…

Fleeing would become the sole option, leaving Beau to a grisly, certain demise—an acceptable outcome for the criminal, except that Darius needed to know who within Silph Co.'s power structure had sworn fealty to Team Rocket. The former Silph scientist was his only remaining lead.

The air continued to buzz. The Beedrill's stingers exuded malice as the loathsome insect gradually banked to its right.

When the loathsome insect began to fly away, Darius let out breath he didn't know he had held.

The scientist still looked petrified, and resumed breathing only seconds after the Beedrill vanished behind the trees. Beau shut his eyes, turned his head away. His pointed nose became a mountain peak from which sweat continued to cascade.

 _Time to push him while he's rattled_ , Darius thought. _Before another outburst causes a swarm._

"Who knew about your allegiance to the Rockets? Did the board authorize you?" Darius pressed, his voice remaining level and cool despite what had nearly transpired.

"I never talked with anyone inside Silph about what I did, only the Rockets!"

"Then why were they regularly meeting with Giovanni and his associates before the takeover?"

"I don't know, I swear!" Beau's voice quavered as tears intermingled with the sweat dripping from his nose.

Darius did not allow any hint of anger to flicker through his expression, but he felt irritation gnawing his nerves raw. He needed answers that this spineless twit clearly did not have, Darius knew now. He could proceed to torture Beau to make certain, but the coward didn't have the mettle to withhold anything under the pressure already applied to him.

His thoughts turned to Silph Co.'s vice-president. The bastard had kept the truth out of his grasp again.

Darius reached for Dyna Blade's Pokéball, recalling the bird in a flash of light. As he lifted his hands to the sky, the Staraptor gripped his hands in its talons.

Darius did not summon Alva.

Beau opened his eyes at last at the sound of the bird's cry. His face turned ashen.

"What are you doing? You said you wanted answers!"

The trainer turned his back on the former Rocket double-agent.

"Answers you claim not to have. I don't have time to waste on worthless people. Farewell."

"Y-you can't leave me here! I'll die!" Beau's voice barely cut through his profound sobs. "Please, have the decency to take me to the police, at least!"

Darius snorted.

"You'd like that, getting off easy."

He looked to the east to the distant, towering skyscrapers of Saffron City that rose just above the trees. His mouth formed a lopsided smirk.

"No, I have a far better use for you."

* * *

Leon sat at the mahogany conference table with his fingers interlaced to form a bridge that upheld his chin. With the board members absent, the table seemed vacant. Even the Silph insignia statue, now resting upon a smaller side table, no longer obstructed the view across the conference room.

He could clearly see the President's mustache bristle as the old man regarded a newspaper.

"Try as I might, I can't get that horrible day out of my head," the President said. "And it doesn't help that the media takes every opportunity to remind me of it."

Leon offered him a sly smile. "The public yearns for excitement, and journalists provide it. You ask too much if you expect them to merely report events and seek the truth behind them."

President Silph regarded him with a furrowed brow and flushed cheeks.

"Easy for you to say! Where were you while Giovanni held me captive inside my own company?!"

Leon weighed his options, keeping silent. He would not jeopardize his position by arguing over the President's emotionalism. He had worked a lifetime to reach vice presidency, given up too much.

The Silph executive decided upon waiting out his superior's frustration rather than challenge it.

After a moment, President Silph exhaled, then rubbed his domed head.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to lash my frustrations out on you, Leon. If anything, I owe you my thanks for answering those reporters' questions for me."

Leon waved the affront away. "Do not trouble yourself, President Silph. It tries even the greatest of minds to publicly relive one's worst memory."

"Sadly, my mind and my body are not what they once were," the President replied. He gestured to himself. "All this worrying only induces stress. Someday I will retire, use what remains of my life to dote on my grandchildren. Once the new Centropolis branch proves stable, I'll step down and hand you the reins to the company."

The vice-president allowed himself to smile as genuinely as any would-be inheritor to a corporate empire could to his predecessor.

"I'm sure you will find your best days are ahead of you, and not behind, President Silph. I will personally ensure the transition remains smooth."

A pregnant pause ensued between them. President Silph looked to the newspaper again and shifted it as if he intended to read more. Yet, after a moment, he folded the paper and set it aside. He returned his focus to the vice-president.

"Do you spend time with your family these days, Leon?"

The question seemed tangential, but Leon knew better. The old man sought assurance that his legacy would endure and the company remain stable after he left. He needed to entertain the old fool's insecurities.

He adjusted his suit's cufflinks, focusing upon them as a means of remaining unflappable. "My daughter's graduation was three weeks ago. You know how independent she is, and she likes to keep busy. I don't believe she'll mind."

"…And your wife and son?" the President pressed.

Instinctively, Leon fought the gut reaction that twisted within him. He maintained his placid expression, neither turning his gaze aside nor moving any facial muscles to acknowledge his true thoughts.

"…I'm afraid I fail to see how the question relates to Silph's future," Leon said at last. "I assure you that I won't be missed while I visit Ria. I'll be able to focus all of my efforts on the company's success."

"I see," the President replied, nodding. "My apologies. I won't bother you with such questions again. You've more than proven your worth at Silph, Leon. I wish you unending success in the future."

"Your understanding is appreciated, President. I thank you for your support."

President Silph loosed a sigh. "Well, enough about that. Have you seen the forecasts on the Pokéball market? Seems mildly promising."

Leon nodded. "There may be cause for opti—"

He trailed off as he noticed the President's expression change to fear, eyes seemingly locked on the window behind Leon. The vice-president pivoted his leather chair, just in time for a person to collide with the window from the outside. The executives stood almost in unison.

A bespectacled man entrapped by spiderwebs remained plastered to the window, his terrified pleas for help muffled by the glass. Leon recognized his repulsive slovenly appearance—it matched the image of the Master Ball's designer.

He saw a note stuck upon the webbing that covered the scientist's chest.

 _You can't hide the truth forever, Leon,_ it read.

Behind the former Silph employee, a young man hung from a Staraptor's talons. His gaze fixated upon Leon, the boy's loathing was palpable even in silence. Leon said nothing, responding only by pocketed his hands in his dress pants as he looked back.

After several thick moments of glaring, the trainer ordered his Staraptor to depart. The bird peeled away from the Silph Co. building and headed south.

"Leon! Is that—"

"I'll handle this," Leon said, watching the trainer shrink into the distance. "You should head home."

The president's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid we haven't escaped the media's limelight just yet."

* * *

After delivering his message, Darius flew south to Vermilion Port. He switched birds part-way after landing briefly to walk a mile under the cover of lush foliage, and then took to flight again. Avoiding any police sightings, he landed when he heard the rushing surge of the frothy Vermilion City waters.

The crowd around him bustled to and from the port. The air filled with the noise of their chatter, the crashing of the waves, and the deep-bass blasts of the ship horns.

A thin, whispy fog rolled in as Darius gazed at the choppy sea. His flinty gaze pierced the mists by willpower and the silent, icy rage storming within him at the thought of the Silph vice-president's interference. He had found and exposed every traitorous scientist involved in the Master Ball program, but Leon's unseen hand blocked him from finding evidence of any connection to the company's board.

Five years of frustration.

Darius did not allow his fury to boil, as emotions detracted from the objective logical process he prided himself on. Yet humans could draw power, inspiration, and determination by them when utilized well. Hot rage ruined thought, but distilling a calculated hatred of evil had long proven useful to him.

Remembering the earlier texts, the trainer pulled out his gear, eyes lingering on the screen. Though he loathed being in another's debt, it would take all of his efforts to bring Leon down, and Darius had run out of leads. Being no fool, he would not permit pride to keep him from seeking a solution, even if it meant acquiring help.

 **[Ready now]** the trainer typed.

A few moments passed, his beating heart keeping time.

The device reverberated. A new message appeared on the screen.

 **[About time. What happened?]**

 **[No valuable intel. Another dead end. Unless you know something.]**

 **[Old codger says to contact him. Sounded excited, urgent. Says it'll help you out.]**

 **[What time?]**

 **[Contact him directly ASAP. Secure connection only.]**

 **[This isn't amateur hour]** Darius replied, and ended the conversation there.

He got up to find a secure network to hack. Whatever Professor Maxwell Willow had to tell him, Darius knew there would be a catch involved.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter is dedicated to my loving wife of four years. I adore you, Rachel. Happy anniversary : )

(3/24/13)

* * *

This chapter took way longer than I wanted to complete. It was tricky figuring out how to introduce my character, Darius, in a memorable way that would connect him with my readers. I hope I've succeeded in doing that.


End file.
